Hellcat Heart

Redux:

I turned 42 on Saturday and spent the entire day in decadent, solitary bliss. JD and I will see each other in 2 days and it didn’t make sense to make the drive and then turn around and do it again 3 days later so we will meet up in a couple of days for another sweet little getaway in the Ozark mountains.

I stayed up until 5am but woke up to a flower and cake delivery Saturday morning and then spent my day languidly playing on my phone, soaking in the tub, reading, and doing exactly what I wanted. I didn’t clean. I didn’t do anything on the task list. I didn’t pack. I just spent the entire day doing “me” and it was so fucking refreshing I may have to have another birthday very soon.

My Mom and I made a date for the end of the month to go shopping and lunch and I am a little too excited about it. I don’t know when the last time was I had my Mom to myself for Mother/Daughter time but the only memory that comes to mind is when I was 12 and we had a magical day together going to the mall and we got an eyebrow makeover from a lady at a kiosk. I felt so “grown up” with her that day, so respected. I don’t need to feel grown up or respected with her anymore but I LOVE how excited she got talking about it.

In other news, I’ve had several job interviews and I am frustrated AF because one woman (who would have been my boss) was a condescending asshole and a few other offers weren’t enough money. I know the right offer will come along and I am resigned to wait it out for the perfect offer. JD supports it and that makes it SO much easier not stressing about urgency.

I’ve got projects to do: Working on pom-pom socks, 4 book reviews to do for one of my side-hustles, deluttering and packing for the move, putting extra clothes on Poshmark, and maintaining my sanity.

Oh, and I’m going to Atlanta for a couple of weeks on the 28th and think I am going to nest and cook some decadent food. I’m sure JD will appreciate a lobster tail and I want to try to make some spicy black beans and coconut rise with a drizzle of homemade roasted red pepper puree.

That’s all for now.

Tupelo was amazing.

Sex, food, and car shopping. And JD got a new car!

This week, I’ve interviewed my ass off. Exhausting to say the least.

Packing more shit for Atlanta.

Celebrated not murdering anyone by shopping this evening.

I have new makeup. I have clothes. I have shoes. I have a fancy bottle of wine.

My birthday is next week and JD got me some adorable Hello Kitty Converse.

Life is good. And exhausting.

I’ve bumped into some grumpy moments the past week so I think making a gratitude list will remind me of all that I have. If it was Thanksgiving, it would be the one where your alcoholic uncle shows up late and proceeds to breathe whisky-fumes all over the overcooked turkey while the rest of your family barks at one another and judges each other’s accomplishments for the past year.

Meanwhile, you’ll be sitting on the couch while staring at the television. The Macy’s parade will be on. You’ll be grateful for something on which to focus.

Gratitude:

1. I am really grateful for my own integrity. I’ve bumped into a couple of people in the last week who are grown-ass adults who operate with zero personal integrity and I was so grossed out. I am grateful that I try to do the right thing even when nobody is looking and that I want to be able to look my authentic self in the mirror every night without a bunch of self-concocted lies and bullshit stories.
2. I am also really grateful that I recognize when I am being self-righteous (see above) and can have a good laugh at myself. Usually if I am being self-righteous it’s because I really want to tell someone to go fuck themselves but feel like it’s beneath me.
3. I am grateful for my little condo. It’s not huge, about 950 square feet, but plenty big enough for me to spread out my art projects or do yoga or wander from room to room looking for what needs cleaning.
4. I am grateful that I have a full life. I’m in love. I have a career. I have hobbies. I have a lot of friends. I make my own money. I pay my own bills. I travel. I have side hustles. I drink expensive wine when I want. I buy shoes I don’t need. I have enough to donate fairly regularly. I have a great dog. My car is dependable. I’m happy.
5. I am grateful that I am still standing after a divorce, a move, a near-miss layoff at work, the death of my best friend, the death of my Grandfather, and about a billion other things I cannot list. I’m still here with my sturdy backbone in place with the road bruises and scrapes to prove what I’ve been through. I’m here and my life did not fall apart. Because that is not how I do things. Ever.

Signing off for now,

Bad Bitch with a Heart of Fire.

I’ve felt cruddy for the last week so I’ve spent my time window-shopping for various leopard print boots, leopard print jeans, leopard print purses, and I even found a leopard print phone cover if I want to pay $30 and wait 4 – 6 weeks for delivery from China.

I don’t do well when I have to be idle due to my body not cooperating. I have things to do, books to read, people to talk to, and I am just too exhausted for any of it. So I’m hiding on Poshmark. And Nordstrom Rack. And Amazon. And and and.

Eleven days until I see my love again. We never go more than a month without seeing one another and we will be pushing 25 days when we meet next week. We will be holed up in a suite in Buttfuck, Mississippi in a hot tub built for two with our dogs, some adult beverages, and nothing but time. I feel certain I will come home completely exhausted for all the right reasons.

In the meantime, I’ll be getting my nails done and trying to get my mutant flu under control and picking out my cutest fishnets and dresses. Because I deserve to feel sexy and JD deserves a nicely-wrapped package. <3

 

I always have such big plans for Friday nights. Usually while I’m at work during the afternoon, I’ll proclaim to myself that when I get home I will walk the dog, go to yoga, treat myself to a good dinner, maybe meet up with friends for cocktails, and get to bed at a decent hour.

Instead I normally do what I did tonight which is come home completely exhausted, walk the dog for a lot shorter time than she actually deserves, order in Chinese or rummage for cheese and crackers in my barren fridge, and stay up way too late yammering with JD on FaceTime before eventually working late into the night on various web projects.

I’ll probably go to bed around 4am after sipping kombucha all night and kick my own ass for getting up too late for the “gentle” yoga class tomorrow morning.

I’m a glamorous bitch. What can I say?

 

My Papaw was put on comfort care this morning. He’s got 4 days, maybe a week left.

He was lucid when I got there saying, “I sure am glad to see you”.  I was glad he was awake enough to know who I was. It won’t be long though. Not at all.

My Dad was there. It was awkward and awful.

I’m so full of emotions I don’t know what to process first. My poor sister is so stressed out with everything and will deliver my niece any day now. I’m worried for her.

My other Grandpa, the one on my Mom’s side, is also dying.

I keep thinking about how 2 deaths and a birth will all happen any day now…and how my life somehow morphed over the last few years into a life where All The Big Events converge into a week. Like there is a bottleneck on my spiritual calendar or whoever is driving the boat wants to see how much they can shove in my throat before I choke.

I haven’t choked yet.

And I won’t.

Coffee.

I woke up extra early this morning for no good reason. The glow on my phone said it was 5:30am and I had a “fuck it” moment and decided to walk Bella and get my blood pumping.

I finally saw the Doc yesterday about my hand and my suspicion was confirmed. Years ago, while in an argument, someone who was screaming that they loved me gripped my now-mangled hand in theirs and crushed one of the tiny crumbs of carpal making a patchwork just near my thumb. My body has tried in vain since then to reabsorb the crushed pieces but instead, for its valiant efforts, I now have a raging case of arthritis and a bit of a bruised ego.

I told myself for years I was just being a drama queen about it. Guess I showed myself, huh?

Also on my mind today: Donald Trump is a fucking traitor. I want some metal drinking straws since all these restaurants are saving the turtles by not providing them anymore. I bought a purse in my sleep but it ended up being cute so I’ll keep it. I’m thinking about going back to school for my PhD, or maybe a PsyD. The L’Occitane Immortelle cream I got for my face has worked some damned miracles. JD will be here in a couple of days and I hope we wear each other out with sex, cuddling, good food, and getting the rest of my big furniture loaded up and home to Atlanta.

That’s all for my happy heart this morning. <3

 

God, I used to “rage against the dying of the light” like it was out of fucking style.

The last 2 years have been the most stressful and wonderful of my life. I am exhausted. My creative fires flicker every now and again but they don’t burn steadily like I want them to…like they used to.

I feel like I am constantly on the go with work and traveling and cleaning and dieting and just the every day minutiae that always seems so much more important than “Hey Bitch, why don’t you sit down and funnel some of those warm fuzzies into an essay…or a painting…or hell, ANYTHING?”

So here I am. With a brand-new blog.

Clean white pillowcase just waiting for my makeup smears.

Hellcat? Are you still in there?